


telepatía

by gentlesun



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Phone Sex, Sharing a Bed, Simp Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Soft GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Song fic, Yearning, coronavirus arc lol, name truthing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:40:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlesun/pseuds/gentlesun
Summary: you know i'm just a flight away...***Dream hated not to be able to do anything about their situation. He had always been able to find a way, a loophole, something. But not this time, he supposed. And that reminder stung him every single time he was on call with George. Every late night they spent sleeping with each other on the phone, and all the nights they spent up and doing things far different than sleeping. Even when they weren’t together the reminder stung. If the world weren’t out to get him right now, Dream would have been with George months ago. He was sure of it.Snap from George!:"🙄🙄""get a move on"
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 234





	telepatía

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall welcome 2 my first official official fic, aka the 1st one i've spent a lot of time on and actually tried!
> 
> this is heavily inspired by kali uchi's song telepatía, and if you're reading this i encourage you to go listen to it (& look up its translations if you don't speak spanish!)
> 
> this is unbeta'd we die like men
> 
> as always if the cc's change their mind about their boundaries this will be deleted
> 
> if u like this pls consider dropping kudos or a comment! i appreciate the feedback a lot & try to respond to everyone :)

“What I would do to you if I had you in front of me....” 

Dream’s voice sounds in a low rumble, and on the other end of the receiver George can be heard whimpering in his empty bed, bathed in the moonlight. 

“It’s not fair that you can’t be here with me, Dream. You know I’m just a flight away,” George breathes towards his cell phone lying on the pillow beside his head. It wasn’t fair that he didn’t get to have Dream next to him right now, with his bigger hands encompassing him rather than George’s own. 

“If I was, I’d have my hands all over you by now,” Dream says, like he’s reading George’s mind. “I bet I could fit my hands around one of your legs, you’re so small. Could grip your waist and probably have my thumbs meet in the middle.”

Dream doesn’t know exactly how much truth there is to that statement, but it earns a groan from George and a series of slick noises to fall through onto his end of the line. He knew George secretly got off on the knowledge that he was smaller than Dream, no matter how much he protested it. Dream had an inkling that George would like quite a few other things that were on his mind right now as well. 

“Could pull both your wrists together with one hand, tease you with the other. You touching yourself, George?” Dream asks him, low and slow as he thought out loud. He already knew the answer to the question, could hear the evidence over the phone. George knew he knew as well, and didn’t answer his question. 

“I don’t understand how you’re so far away,” George manages to get out between a few breaths, “and still can end up doing... _this_ to me. Having this effect.”

Dream rolls over onto his back, knowing exactly what George meant. He was feeling the same way, one hand down his own boxers. There was still a bit of that Florida sunshine pouring in through his window, painting his room in sunset colors. He knew George could be looking up at the stars right now, all those miles away. George had been right, it really wasn’t fucking fair. 

Even now, especially now, he ached for George. The reminder that he wasn’t physically with George always throbbed somewhere deep in his chest, and was present now even through his arousal. 

“I’ll come visit you, George. Or I’ll arrange for you to come see me. I promise I will, just as soon as we can, okay? And we can do this in person, all day if you want,” Dream promises him, throwing an arm over his forehead and pushing his hair from his face. He wishes he could see George right now; on top of him, below him, beside him, _with him._ Anywhere. He closes his eyes and opens them again, like that will make him magically appear. Of course, Dream is alone when he opens his eyes. Like he always is whenever he tries to make that magic trick work. 

“I-I want... _Dream_...” George moans into the receiver, and Dream pulls his phone closer to his ear. 

“I know,” Dream replies, voice low and breaking on the ending consonant. “It’s alright. Lemme hear you, George.”

He listens intently as he hears George reach his climax, most likely with his face buried in his pillow from how muffled his sounds become. It doesn’t take long for Dream to follow suit, and once they’re both coming down from their respective highs, it’s a little quiet. 

Dream can hear George breathing on the other end, and George can practically hear Dream listening to him so intently. They both close their eyes at the same time, unbeknownst to each other. 

“I can hear you thinking, you know. It’s okay,” George mumbles, sliding under his covers and bunching them up to his chest. If he gathers enough up in his arms, it feels almost like a hug. Not quite, but almost.

Dream knows. He knows it's okay or whatever, but he doesn’t want it to just be okay. He wishes there were something he could do to get the travel ban lifted, so all his promises would be less empty. So he could feel more like a good...well, boyfriend wasn’t quite the word yet. 

“I’m still sorry. You were right, you know. It isn’t fair, and I’m sorry I can’t be there yet..”

George puffs a breath into his plush mound of covers, pushing his forehead against his pillow. “Stop acting like it’s your fault. It’s out of your control, and I get that. I just like to complain sometimes, Dream. You know me.”

“I’ll make it happen, though. Someday. Soon, hopefully. I feel like I’m going fucking insane over here, man,” Dream confesses, letting out a half-laugh. It’s harder at night, to deal with how it feels to be alone instead of with George. It’s hardest when George feels so close to him like he does right now. Like Dream could feel his warm breath on his neck through the phone. He turns over again, curling up into his bed. It was early still for him to go to bed, but Dream had just decided that he was going to sleep anyway. 

“It’s getting late for you, and uh, I think I’m going to just hit the hay as well. You think you could stay on the line with me?” Dream asks, maybe a little quieter than before. As if George has ever denied him the pleasure of sleeping on call with him. 

“Of course. Sweet dreams, Dream,” George says, and Dream has to smile at the sound that he knows is George smiling as he speaks. 

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Dream doesn’t fall asleep for at least the next hour or so. Instead he just lies there until he hears George’s breathing even out, soft mumbles coming from that end of the call every so often that lets Dream know that George is asleep. 

And when Dream wakes up, the first thing he does is go online and scour the internet for plane tickets. 

This stupid fucking virus has ruined so much shit for him within the past three months, and to tell the truth, it was slowly chipping away at his sanity. Just testing how far along the whole quarantine thing could go before Dream officially lost his marbles for real. 

All the tickets that were for sale were either months and months into the future, or their flights were delayed indefinitely. All trips postponed until further notice. No one moved. 

It felt like some kind of worldwide prank was being played on him, specifically to spite Dream himself. Like the universe decided that since he finally had something good going for him, that it had to be shit on completely. 

He didn’t want to commit to any of the available ticket options right now. George was his best friend, and Dream knew that, but what if their relationship wasn’t the same so many months into the future? What if one day, and it could be any day, George decided he didn’t want to be...intimate with Dream anymore. He didn’t want anymore late night calls, didn’t like to be called _babe_ by Dream’s voice anymore, and decided that this wasn’t for him. That Dream, in this way, wasn’t for him. What would he do with the ticket? Or himself?

Dream decides he isn’t awake enough yet to start any pity parties, closes every open tab on his monitor, and walks himself to his kitchen for a mug of tea. 

George had hung up their call sometime while Dream was still asleep, and once again Dream found his finger hovering over the call button. He can’t bring himself to press it. Instead he set his coffee machine (one of the fancy ones, with the interchangeable cups) up to make a single mug, and as it brews it for him, he opens up Snapchat. He aims the camera at the coffee maker, snaps a photo, and begins to caption it. 

_*morning dude. how many cups of this do u think itll take 2 kill me? realistically*_

He snickers to himself, sends off the snap, and his tea is all ready for him. He immediately takes a sip, hissing as it burns the roof of his mouth. Dream never really learned how to be patient, so he blows on it and tries again. In his hand, his phone vibrates. 

Snap from George

_*clearly just that 1 wont be enough. idiot 🙄 talk to me once youve drank at least 7*_

Dream laughs a little again, holding his mug up in front of his face, snapping another photo. He makes sure not to spill on himself, inspects the photo, then captions it. 

_*its like u want me 2 drop dead. :( wtf. ur mean*_

Dream sends it, and then a second later receives another notification. 

_*George has taken a screenshot!*_

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for George to screenshot his snaps, especially when they include some part of his face or sometimes even his hands. In this case even though most of his face was covered, Dream knew he took the screenshot for one reason or another. 

_*George is typing...*_

_*get on call with me, it’s been too long since I last saw your face.*_

George clearly was in a cheeky and demanding mood today, but Dream can’t say he doesn’t love it. Dream reads the text over a few times, making his way to his desk while expertly stepping over Patches on the way. He boots up Discord, calling George without bothering to reply to his Snap. 

It takes a few rings before George picks up, and he already has his camera on and pointed towards his face. George is frowning at him, he sees, and has his arms crossed just a hair above where the camera begins to cut him off. 

“Thought I said I wanted to see you,” George pouts at him, and Dream lets out a soft chuckle as he finally switches on his camera. He hides the view of himself, enlarging the window on his monitor so that George takes up his whole screen. 

“There, happy? You have my full attention,” Dream smiles, a laugh on the tip of his tongue as he does a little 360 spin on his chair. “You just got to see me from all angles.”

“Yes, very,” George reports back to him, and Dream turns his attention back to the face on his monitor. 

George is wearing a hoodie that practically swallowed him, and his hair was in that messy state that he never allowed it to be in on streams. Dream studies every inch of him, like he usually does, though this time he knows he can be seen as he does so. From the top of his head right down to the seam where George’s hoodie pocket begins, Dream looks. He knows George is watching him look, because George leans back in his desk chair and relaxes, a sparkle in his eye and a little self-satisfied smirk on his lips. 

“You streaming later?” Dream inquires, dragging his eyes back up to meet George’s gaze. 

“Mhm. Minecraft stream with the Sex Havers, you’re invited. And you better be there so I can put your name in the title,” George teased him, eyes crinkling in time with his smile. 

“Wow, George. Can’t believe you only like me for my clout,” Dream rolls his eyes, grinning right back at the other man. George scoffs at him, a familiar sound for his headphones. 

“Yeah, that’s definitely it. You are such an idiot…” George trails off, looking fondly at Dream on his screen before starting up into a ramble about what the stream was supposed to be about that night. 

Once George was officially out of breath from explaining his plans for his stream, he had only one thing left to say.

“Leave your Discord open. We’ll use Teamspeak for the stream, but uh, you know,” George trails off once again, no longer looking directly into the camera. Dream knew what he meant though, and agrees quietly. He’d definitely make fun of him later on for wanting him to keep his camera on, though. 

It wasn’t often that George vocally expressed his desire to see Dream, so, on second thought...maybe he would get a pass. Just this once. And maybe it would encourage him to keep asking, too. 

* * *

“ _Dream!_ ” George shrieks, loud enough that Dream feels it echoed through his head for more than a few seconds. They were both laughing wildly, the rest of their friends being left to their own devices as Dream chased George around the Nether trying to hit him into lava. 

The stream had started at least two hours ago by now, and the two of them had wasted no time in getting on everyone else’s nerves by making them all third wheels. Thankfully, Quackity and Karl knew how to deal with being laughed and talked over by the pair, and for now they both just went along with Dream and George’s shenanigans. 

Dream had George’s stream open, and their Discord call, _and_ their Teamspeak call open, and he was feeling extra grateful for his three monitors right now. He could see George’s face on the monitor that didn’t have Minecraft open, and the older man’s face was crinkled with joy as he let out boisterous laughs. 

“Guys! Are we going to build this hub or are you two going to keep flirting the whole time?” Sapnap shouts over their joint laughter, his character sprinting over and smacking the both of them with his pixelated fists. He had joined the party of George, Dream, Karl and Quackity not too terribly long ago, but was already fed up with their antics. He had to deal with their shit most often, and had far less patience than Karl and Quackity. It was all in good spirits though, and this was all perfectly normal behavior from both Sapnap, and Dream and George

They were currently _supposed_ to be helping build some kind of hub center for their Nether portal right now, and Dream absentmindedly placed a few blocks here and there on the build as he slowly caught his breath from wheezing. George was coming down from his giggles as well, and between placing blocks Dream turned around in-game to smack him every so often.

“Sorry, sorry. My bad,” Dream snickers as George retaliates with ten times as many more smacks as he had given to him. This only led to the both of them ending up in another catfight, smacking at each other and giggling madly.

“Jesus, you two need to be caged and separated,” Karl butts in sarcastically, though it sounded like he was smiling. His character hops between the two of them, smacking them apart from each other and placing a wall of obsidian between their characters. “There, maybe now you two can focus and finally put in some freaking work, huh? You’re working us like dogs over here!”

“What! Now I can’t even see my little Georgie,” Dream pouts ridiculously in protest, eyes flicking over to George’s stream as they usually did. He had forgotten completely that George could still see his face on their Discord call, but looking at George’s stream it was clear that he wasn’t even looking at Minecraft anymore. When Dream shifted his gaze, George was looking back at him.

For a second it felt like George forgot to react for the stream, as all of a sudden he rolled his eyes back to his stream camera with a big huff of breath, jumping once and hitting Dream from over the obsidian wall between them.

“You’ll live. You managed to make it this long without seeing me,” George replies, words coming out laced with far too much underlying realism. There was a beat of silence before Quackity and Karl start arguing with each other again, and Dream has to consciously remember to school his face into something that didn’t look as much like the kicked puppy as he currently felt like. 

George was watching him, he knew, and Dream had a tendency to have his emotions written all over his face. He wasn’t quite used to having to maintain certain expressions while on stream since he never used a facecam, but since George was here Dream wanted to try his best. He didn’t want to put a damper on their moods just because of some silly thing that George had said. He knew George’s intentions weren’t to make him feel shitty, but he still felt a pang of guilt towards the fact that a meetup was out of the question for right now.

“Whatever. This obsidian can’t hold me back forever,” Dream shoots back as quickly as he can, pulling out a shitty, stone pickaxe. “Might take me a hot minute but I’ll totally wreck this wall, George.”

Mining that block with a pickaxe like his would take fucking ages and Dream knew it, but he mined away despite the fact. “Anything to be able to beat you to a pulp one last time,” he adds for good measure, so his words won’t sound too candid. A little comedy never hurt.

* * *

“Alright, everyone say bye to the stream, guys!” George announces, waving both hands at his camera with a cheesy smile as a chorus of farewells floods the audio. He finally clicks the button to end his stream, his _four hour long stream,_ and turns his attention back to their VC. 

Quackity and Karl are the first two to leave, after a series of goodbyes and thanking George for having them on the stream. Quackity is already streaming, though his stream hasn’t officially started yet, and George raids him. Sapnap sticks around for just a bit longer before he departs as well, off to join Quackity’s stream train. Then the two of them are left alone, and Dream glances over to the monitor with George’s face on it. George isn’t looking at him this time, and instead is busy flicking a fidget spinner between two of his fingers in concentration far deeper than should be possible.

“Just us,” Dream hums to break the silence, bringing his legs up onto his chair and leaning back into it. It tilts back with him, and he finds himself stuck for words again. 

George nods though, and Dream knows he isn’t truly as far deep into concentration as he was making it seem a few minutes ago. He continues to spin the little toy, and though it’s clear now to Dream that he has something on his mind, all George says is: “Yup.”

Dream lets another stretch of silence lapse between them again, listens to the soft whirring sound George’s spinner makes and watches it between his nimble fingers. Nimble fingers leading down into delicate wrists that disappear into the pool of fabric that is his black hoodie. It isn’t Dreams, but for a second he wonders how it would feel if it was. How it would feel to see George wearing something of his for real, or if George would ever even think of doing that to begin with. 

Dream would feel proud, and some part of him knows that. A bigger part of him fully understands why, but doesn’t dare dive any further into that thought. The two of them weren’t anything serious, at least not for right now. Dream should have his dumb, fond fucking thoughts under control by now.

“What’s on your mind?”

On the monitor George looks up again, licking his lips quickly and biting down onto his bottom lip. “Mm, I don’t really know, to be honest. Stupid things, to be honest. What about you?”

Immediately Dream knows he has a lot to say, can’t even imagine how many different things are swirling around in the other man’s head right now. “Try me, man. I wanna hear all your _‘stupid things.’”_

George lets out a little chuckle at that, the half-laugh he does that’s mostly just a puff of breath made through an audible smile. Dream knows that laugh like nobody's business. He’s pretty sure that, at this point, he has an imaginary arsenal of all of George’s different laughs stored up in his brain. Which ones he uses most, why, and what they usually mean. Even has the ones that George only lets slip when it’s just the two of them around committed to memory and documented eternally inside his brain.

“You first.”

“Was thinking about, um, private planes. How you can like, rent them for a ride. And how that would work with all the new virus stuff happening…” Dream tries. It’s not exactly what he was thinking about at the moment, but it was what he was thinking about ever since he started Googling plane tickets. It was just an option they hadn’t considered before, and their little moment during the stream had gotten Dream thinking a little.

George hesitates. It’s not a bad idea if it ends up being a plausible one, he supposes, but still. A private plane. “Dream...”  
  


“I’m not saying anything! Or implying it. But if I _were_ implying it, I’d just be saying that it might work. Could get tested before and after and quarantine and everything. Could even get a hotel to stay in for two weeks if needed-”

“Dream.”

“Right. Well...forget it then, I guess. It was also a stupid thought.” 

Dream doesn’t meet his gaze, and the noise from the spinner stops.

“Were you being serious? I mean, _actually_? You’d do that?” George asks, a little softer than he usually sounds.

“Of course I was. I’m not sure you get how badly I really do want to see you,” Dream admits to him with a nervous sort of laugh, “and you know I love you. So.”

George nods at him on his screen, but doesn’t say it back. Dream’s feelings aren’t hurt, he knows George sometimes has a hard time expressing things.

“I’ll, um, think about that. Okay? I promise.”

As far as Dream was concerned, that wasn’t a no. He would take it, and he wouldn’t think too hard about how well his idea would end up working out, if at all. If it happened, it happened. They couldn’t control the virus, and they couldn’t help but be a bit weary of it and abide by all the precautions they could. They would just have to wait and see how things panned out.

* * *

As it turned out, the travel ban in the United States wasn’t lifted. Not for weeks, and then weeks turned into months which turned into nearly a _year_. An entire year of longing for something so badly that was completely out of Dream’s control.

He _hated_ not to be able to do anything about their situation. Dream had always been able to find a way, a loophole, _something._ But not this time, he supposed. And that reminder stung him every single time he was on call with George. Every late night they spent sleeping with each other on the phone, and all the nights they spent up and doing things far different than sleeping. Even when they weren’t together the reminder stung. If the world weren’t out to get him right now, Dream would have been with George months ago. He was sure of it.

Some things got better though, slowly. Eventually stay-at-home orders were lifted and Dream could leave his house more often. More stores and restaurants opened up, the curfew was extended by a few hours. That was nice, Dream thought half-heartedly, but it wasn’t what he wanted; it wasn’t like he really left his house anyway, so what good would any of that do him? Apart from that, Dream avoided the news like the plague. It was never anything he ever wanted to hear, anyways.

He was already having a shitty day to begin with. George wasn’t going to be able to be on call with him practically at all today, because of some weird family conflict that he hesitated to explain at all. Dream didn’t push though, knowing that George’s family emergencies were more important than the bad day he was having. 

To put the icing on the cake that was his shitty day, there was supposed to be some pretty heavy rain coming his way later that day and it was to carry over into the weekend. It might even get cold enough for it to turn into _snow,_ which was pretty uncommon for where he lived in Florida, but Dream couldn’t say he was surprised that there would be shitty weather on his shitty day. With Dream’s luck, he’d have a shitty weekend, too.

So, Dream laid in bed for practically the whole day. It was a super garbage day, and with George gone, he figured he might as well catch up on some of his sleep. He had nothing to lose, changing out of his lounging pajamas and into his sleeping pajamas to climb into bed and under his covers. He pulled them up to his chin, snuggling into their somewhat comforting warmth, and opened his phone to turn it to Do Not Disturb.

_*Snap from George!*_

Weird that George was snapping him specifically when he had said he had things to do today, but Dream wasn’t going to complain if it meant having some of George’s attention for a little while.

It was a picture, though not of George, and with no caption. From what he could make out it wasn’t very crowded in the building, and it looked pretty gloomy outside. He squinted at it a little harder before a notification came in that George was typing, and Dream swiped down to clear the Snap and open their conversation instead.

‘ _Come get me,’_ it read, and then a moment later the address for the Orlando International Airport popped up on screen below that with what baggage area George was at.

Surely George was fucking with him. Surely. 

_‘Are u for real? like actually ur here?’_ Dream sent back, feeling his heart rapidly pick up pace inside his chest. He had to actually remind himself to breathe; in through the nose and out through the mouth. 

George:

‘🙄🙄’

_‘get a move on’_

Dream didn’t think he had ever hopped out of bed faster in his life, pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and grabbing his keys as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t need the directions to the airport, he knew exactly where it was. 

Dream was definitely speeding. He was definitely going quite a few miles above the speed limit as he drove, but he couldn’t help it. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, he was going to kick George’s ass. 

He didn’t know how George had managed to get a flight over here, but did the details really matter? Shit, he was going to see his best friend in the flesh. George was going to be here, for _real,_ right in front of him for the first time. Dream fruitlessly tried not to linger on the fact he was driving to see George. He was so excited he could feel his head spinning, and he tried hard to focus on the road.

The airport wasn’t far away from his home at all, and Dream didn't know if that was better or worse for him. Sure it lessened the time he had to take in order to finally go and see George, but it also gave him absolutely no time to prepare. Shit, Dream hadn’t had even the slightest idea that George was traveling at all until he’d received that Snap. His brain was still stuck in _you’re-never-seeing-George-ever_ mode, and snapping into _holy-shit-you’re-gonna-see-George_ mode so quickly was proving to be hard. He was still in disbelief.

Pulling into the airport parking lot, Dream couldn’t help but start worrying. What would George think of him, how would he take seeing him for the first time? Was he allowed to go in for a hug, or was George not going to be comfortable with that kind of contact so soon? Was George going to come back home with him, or did he have other plans? Was he going to stay in Florida the whole time or want to drive down to Texas to see Sapnap? Shit. They hadn’t discussed any of this together, and Dream was sweating bullets as he grabbed his mask, put it on, and headed towards the correct baggage claim.

Eyes scanning the room, Dream was suddenly worrying about a lot more. Little things, but more. Did he smell alright? How did his hair look right now, and more importantly, would George care? He wasn’t even wearing _real_ pants, and Dream noticed how slowly he was making his way over to where people were filtering out of the main terminal. He could feel his heart in his throat and could quite literally hear the blood rushing through his ears in anticipation for the moment he first spotted George. Some part of him knew he could just turn away and let George find him to ease some of his anxiety, but the part of him that wanted to see George more than anything else was even bigger.

Then, from in between the crowd of heads, Dream was sure he had spotted him. He could tell just by the tuft of hair that stuck up and over the lip of a black hood that it was George, even if he was short enough for his face to be concealed from Dream by the taller individuals who walked in front of him. Dream froze, lips parted and breathing heavy under his mask. He’s glad for it in the moment, the mask helping to hide much of how starstruck he must look. The crowd in front of George dissipates then, and Dream could see all of him.

It takes a minute for George to spot Dream and lock eyes with him, and Dream feels cemented in place by his gaze. They both break out into grins at the same time, Dream knows it, and can see the way George’s eyes crinkle from how far away they still were. 

George is walking towards him much faster now, though he hasn’t quite broken out into a run, not wanting to attract that much attention towards them. Something finally breaks in Dream and he steps forward in long, brisk strides to meet George in the middle of the floor.

There isn’t any hesitation whatsoever when George finally reaches him and practically throws himself towards Dream’s chest, gripping him tight into a hug. George’s masked face is buried beside Dream’s shoulder, and he doesn’t think it takes more than a millisecond for him to squeeze George into his embrace. He pushes his cheek against the top of George’s head, the soft black fabric of his hoodie against what skin on his face is exposed. George feels solid as Dream pushes him closer against his chest, solid and _real._ Dream finally knows what it’s like to have George between his arms, and he doesn’t dare try to let go before George does. 

George is quite a lot shorter than Dream, which he knew he should have expected, but the six inch difference is especially clear with George in his arms. If he wanted to, Dream wouldn’t be surprised if it would be easy as pie to pick George up and spin him around like in the movies. It’d probably be easy to haul him up into his grasp and twirl, but he doesn’t move an inch from their current position.

Neither of them say anything for quite some time, before George finally pulls away a bit to look up at him.

“Surprise?” George says, sliver of eyes glimmering. He’s smiling too hard for Dream to truly make out how pretty he knows George’s eyes are.

“Yeah, or something like that,” Dream laughs in reply, squeezing George one last time before letting him go. “Shall we go get your bags and get out of here?”

George nods at him, pulling away completely this time. As he does, Dream catches sight of some of the print on his hoodie and has to do a double take, grabbing George by the shoulder before he can turn all the way away from him. The white smiley face printed on it makes it clear that it’s _his_ merch, and Dream stares at it for far too long than he should have. He’s sure George is trying to kill him today.

“Where the hell did you get this? I don’t remember sending this one to you,” Dream inquires, and even though half of his face is hidden Dream can tell he’s wearing a smug look. His eyebrows are raised and if the mask weren’t there Dream was sure he had on that damned smile.

“I bought it, dumbass. Obviously. Where else would I get it? _Ooh, I found it on the street last weekend,_ ” George mocks him, walking off towards the baggage claim to haul his luggage off the rotating trolley. The crowd from his flight has mostly disappeared, so it’s not hard to find his bag.

Dream is a little dumbfounded by that. Why hadn’t George said anything? “I would’ve sent you one, you know. Maybe ask next time?”

“I know. Simp,” George retorts with a laugh, rolling his luggage back over to where Dream stands, and then follows Dream’s lead out towards the car. It’s still gloomy outside, but George squints at the sunlight that pokes through all the clouds anyways.

Dream unlocks his car and catches up to George, taking his luggage away from in the process and hauling it into the trunk before George can protest. George doesn’t protest anyways, just watches as Dream slams his trunk shut before slipping into the passenger seat. Dream climbs in the car shortly after him, sticking his keys in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot and back on to the highway.

“God, it’s such a shitty day today. I feel bad you’ve gotta see Florida this way, super bad first impression,” Dream notes, frowning slightly at the fact it was so ugly out right now. He always envisioned being able to show George the sunny, bright days that they usually had. 

“At least I’m not all hot and sweaty yet, that’s what I’m looking forward to the least. There’s just not enough rain here. And when there is, it kills people. Your country is completely unhinged, you know.”

Dream bites back a joke about George being all hot and sweaty. “Whatever, like _your_ country is any better. What the hell is beans on toast?” 

They both laugh, and all of Dream’s previous worries melt away. This was George, the George he knew and loved. He had no reason at all to be worried.

* * *

By the time they had arrived back at Dream’s place, the rain had finally started to come down. It had started out as just a fine drizzle, gently tapping on the windows of his home for a few hours. Now it was coming down pretty steadily.

The two of them had ordered pizza and were sitting on the couch eating it, some shitty home renovation show playing on television in the background. Dream wasn’t really paying attention to it, preoccupied with the sight of George.

Dream had already given George the tour of his house and shown him his room, the room he had reserved for when Sapnap moved in, along with practically every other nook and cranny of his home. George had taken a shower after the grand tour, and was now sitting across from Dream with damp hair and flushed skin from the hot water, eyes glued to the television screen. Even if George wasn’t looking especially adorable at the moment, Dream couldn’t help not to be able to take his eyes off of him. It was so surreal to finally have George in front of him, and he was drinking in the sight of him every chance he got to.

“Even your television programs are weird. These people have a million dollar budget to spend on their home and they get that ugly ass wood countertop? Americans,” George scoffs, munching down on another bite of his pizza. Dream chuckles, turning his attention to the television. 

“Yeah, we really-” Dream doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as they are suddenly bathed in complete darkness, the television falling silent and it’s screen going black. Power outage. Fuck.

Dream scrambles to his feet, fumbling with his phone’s flashlight as he makes his way to his storage closet to grab his lantern light. It was specifically for emergencies like this, and could last for days without needing new batteries. Dream _hated_ power outages, how inconvenient they were, and how the outage meant that thunder and lightning were sure to come. That was the one thing he never really liked about living in Florida and dealing with the rain: the thunder and lightning. It was a bit of an irrational fear he never grew out of, embarrassingly enough. He hears George laugh on the couch as he flips on the lantern’s light.

“Are you afraid of the dark, Dream?” George teases him, giggling. 

“ _No,_ you jerk. I want to be able to see my pizza while I eat it,” Dream huffs lightheartedly, placing the lantern between them and returning to his pizza. It was the last piece. “This isn’t exactly a romantic, candlelit dinner but I guess we’ll just have to settle.”

It was a joke, and George does the little half-laugh he usually does whenever Dream says something like that, something borderline flirty. “Guess you’ll just have to aim for romantic and candlelit another time then, hm?” George says back, and it only surprises Dream a little bit. Their back and forth banter hits a little different in real life.

“So is that a suggestion or a challenge?” Dream replies quickly and through a bite of pizza, none of his usual fire missing from his response. He raises his eyebrows at George in question, and he watches as George licks his lips and sets down his crust.

“Such an idiot,” is all George mutters in response, smiling and relaxing back into the plush couch cushions. He’s illuminated by the light from Dream’s dorky electric lantern, warm lighting projecting onto his face and casting soft shadows across the hills and valleys that make up his bone structure.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be surprised if you wake up one day to a trail of rose petals,” Dream says back, and it’s a bit of an exaggeration, maybe. He’d do it if George asked, though. In a heartbeat. 

George rolls his eyes so hard Dream can practically hear it, and he sighs softly. “Show me my room, Dream. I’m tired and jet lag is a bitch.”

“I already showed you your room,” Dream says to him, though he pushes the pizza box onto the coffee table and grabs the lantern, standing up from his place on the couch. “Come on, let’s get you to bed since you need an escort.”

“It’s dark in here!” George snarks back in his defense, and Dream laughs as George trails behind him to the guest room.

Once they arrive, George sits on his bed as Dream shuffles around for a few things. He finds a flashlight and lights two candles on George’s desk. Both different scents but at least they provide light.

“Alright. Don’t forget to blow these out before you go to bed, and shut the door if you don’t want Patches to bother you. I’m just down the hall, okay?” Dream informs him, hovering in the doorway. George is stuffing himself down inside the covers, peeking at him over the comforter.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Dream.”

“Goodnight.”

Dream leaves then, leaving the door open just a sliver in case George doesn’t want it shut. He travels to his own room then, climbing under the covers and wishing that they were the ones on George’s bed instead. He’s right next door now instead of miles away, yet Dream still aches for him. He wonders how George feels, how this trip will end up going for them both. Neither of them have brought up anything regarding their...well, how they act around each other. With each other. 

They don’t have to bring it up of course, or do anything at all, but it would be nice to be able to finally do all the things he and George would talk about. Guilty, he thinks about the conversation they had on the phone all those months ago where he told George all the things he’d do to him if he had him there with him in person. Dream gets a little hot under the collar and turns over in bed, forcing his mind to travel elsewhere as he slowly falls asleep.

* * *

Dream wakes up in a cold fucking sweat, heart pounding as thunder claps louder than ever outside his window and lightning lights up every inch of his bedroom. He scrambles for his phone with haste, calling up George as fast as his fingers will allow him to. It takes a few rings for him to pick up, but finally George answers.

“Dream? What…” George trails off sleepily, obviously having been woken up.

“Um...it’s, uh. You know. Well, um…” Dream stutters out, trying to catch his breath that he didn't even realize had been lost.

George understands right away. This wasn’t the first time that Dream has called him in a tizzy about the weather outside, and he can see the same lightning flash from his own room.

“Why didn’t you just come over?”

Dream pauses for a moment as George makes an incredibly good point. Somehow, in his sleepy rush, he had forgotten George was just down the hall. He hangs up without another word and brings himself and his stupid lantern into George’s room.

“Get in bed,” George yawns, rubbing an eye as he moves back towards one side of the bed to make room for Dream to join him.

Dream doesn’t comment or complain, sliding in under the warm covers right next to George, facing him. George crackens open his eyes a little to give him a tired smile, and instantly Dream’s nerves are calmed. He turns off his lantern and sets it aside, and George opens his eyes a bit more.

“Weenie. You live here, you should be used to this weather,” George croaks out, voice laced with sleep in a way that makes Dream’s heart pick up again. This time for different reasons.

“Shut up, I just never got used to it, okay?” Dream grumbles, giving George’s shoulder a gentle punch. More of a lovetap, really.

They’re silent for a little while longer, but neither of them fall asleep again yet. Dream because of the rain, and George because he’s the moral support. Dream appreciates the fact that George will stay up for him even for the stupidest reasons, like this one. He appreciates it more than George will ever know. 

George is awake, Dream knows, but has his eyes closed again. Dream stares at him for the millionth time that day, watching the way his eyelashes flutter every so often when his eyes move beneath their lids. His lips are slightly parted, pink and plush as they usually are. 

“How long are you here for?” Dream asks him quietly, though he’s not sure he wants to know. He didn’t ask how George managed to get here, and isn’t sure if he wants to know that either. He does feel bad that George bought his own plane ticket though, and considers how he could possibly reimburse him for a moment.

George doesn’t respond for a moment, though shifts slightly in bed. “Um, I didn’t actually...buy a ticket back home yet. I know you didn’t invite me to live here permanently or anything, but we always talked about the Dream Team moving in together and whatnot...so…”

_That..._ definitely was not an answer Dream was expecting, but it was quite possibly the best one he could have hoped for. As of right now, he had George indefinitely. _Forever,_ as far as he was concerned. 

“Move in. We can have your other belongings shipped here, I’m pretty sure. No travel ban on objects. You can stay forever. I mean, if you want,” Dream supplies immediately, hand moving to brush a piece of hair out of George’s face.

The contact has George opening his eyes, and he stares back up into Dream’s eyes in the darkness. Dream isn’t sure he can handle it anymore. George is still wearing his merch hoodie, and the mere thought that George put so much trust into him as not to buy a ticket home has his mind reeling. George wanted to live with him, and he was thinking about that when he bought his ticket. Dream wonders what he was thinking about when he bought that hoodie.

Dream can’t read George’s mind, but knows exactly what his own mind is thinking about right now. Dream wants to kiss him so badly it hurts, but instead he balls up his hands by his chest and restrains himself. 

“Why do you look at me like that?” George asks softly, blinking at him. “You do it when we’re on call sometimes too, and I can never figure it out. It’s always that same face that you make, too.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say to him, feeling extremely exposed. “I can’t help it when I look at you.”

George licks his lips again, and Dream’s self-restraint is quickly slipping from him.

“...What do you mean by that?” George implores, and Dream knows he’s pursuing a real answer.

“I mean I’m physically using every cell I have in my body not to make this weird right now,” Dream breathes, avoiding a real answer once again. Thunder claps outside, and he can hear the rain pounding at the window panes. It’s not unlike the sound of his heart thumping against the walls of his chest.

George studies him for a moment. “Make it weird,” he concludes quietly yet confidently, like he’s deciphered what Dream’s answer meant. 

Slowly, cautiously, he inches forward towards George. Dream hopes he knows what he’s in for, what kind of blazing wildfire he just lit within Dream with those three words. He moves in slow enough for George to be able to move out of the way if he wants to, but the other, older man doesn’t budge an inch.

They’re close enough now that Dream is almost going cross-eyed, the two of them simply breathing each other's air. Dream unballs a fist and reaches one hand up slowly, fingers coming to rest up on George’s cheekbone before Dream drags his palm around to cup his cheek. 

This time, when Dream kisses him, it’s for real. It’s not his imagination, or a daydream or even a nightmare, it’s _real._ The evidence of the fact is written in all the grooves that have formed on George’s bitten lips, the ones that Dream feels when he slots their lips together and kisses him slowly. He can feel the stubble on George’s face brush against his own, where they’ll both need to shave soon, and that’s evidence just as well. It feels too good, too _right_ for Dream to consider it a dream or simply his imagination. None of his wildest thoughts have ever come up with anything close to this reality. 

It’s gentle and slow and chaste, not much more than a press of lips. Dream, no matter how much the fire within him aches to blaze on and press forward with more kisses, leans back and says nothing. Likewise, George is silent.

He doesn’t look angry, or upset at all. He’s staring wide-eyed at him though, and catches Dream’s hand when he starts to pull away. George flattens his own hand against the top of Dream’s, pushing his hand back to rest on his cheek. Dream wishes he’d say something, wishes he could read George’s mind and see what he was thinking. What he wanted from him.

“Didn’t think you’d actually do it,” George whispers, a _real_ whisper, not one of the shitty whispers he’s been notorious for in the past. His lips rest slightly parted still, and Dream has to pull his gaze away from them. “Thought you were all talk. For...for...pandering, or something. Thought all the things you said were just for shits and giggles.”

Dream can’t help but let a little chuckle escape him. How could he have been all bark and no bite? “All the things I’ve said off camera, that was pandering, too? All our late night calls? Come on now, George.”

George puffs out a breath of a laugh as well, eyes flitting to the side. Dream swears he can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks, knows he’s replaying their past conversations in his head, because Dream is too. He wonders if George would want him to live up to all the promises he’d made, actually do all the things he’d said he would.

_‘What I would do to you if I had you in front of me…’_

George is in front of him now.

Dream doesn’t flinch this time when the thunder booms fiercely across the sky, making the house shake just a little. Instead he shifts a thumb across the skin of George’s cheek, lets his hand slip down to rest against the side of his neck instead. George blinks up at him now, eyes lidded. They’re both just breathing, waiting for someone to make the first move, the one that would finally break the dam. The tension is palpable, but it doesn’t bother Dream.

Slowly, Dream’s thumb moves to swipe across George’s lower lip, pulling it down a fraction before letting it bounce back into place. He’s having a million different thoughts all at once, none of which he says out loud for the time being. George’s lips have always driven him insane, especially on the days where it seemed all George could do was _mess with them_ , drawing attention to the plump lips.

Dream starts to part his own lips to speak again, but his words die before they get a chance to leave his throat. George is swiping his tongue along the seam of his own lips, catching the pad of Dream’s thumb along the way. Dream has to physically close his eyes and let out a shaky breath, and he knows George has achieved his intended effect when he opens his eyes and sees George smirking at him again.

“Tease,” Dream says under his breath, and George scoffs at him through his smile. 

“You’re the one who’s been holding out on kissing me again.”

That’s what does it for Dream, what finally breaks the dam. If George wants to be kissed, then he’ll kiss him. He’ll kiss him until his lips puff and stay deliciously red for hours after Dream is done with him. 

Dream closes the gap between them in seconds, lurching in to catch George’s lips in a series of kisses that he can hear the sounds of even over the sound of the storm howling outside. George makes a soft noise as their lips first meet again that Dream doesn’t miss but wants to hear again more than anything.

The hand he has on George’s lips is still there, and Dream uses a finger to press gently at the corner of George’s mouth. It encourages him to part his lips just a bit, far enough apart so that Dream can slip his tongue into his mouth. 

George is kissing him back with just as much fervor, and Dream slips his hand beneath the collar of George’s hoodie. He wants to touch him, finally feel that skin on skin contact that he’s been yearning for for so long, but knowing that George is wearing _his_ merch inspires something possessive in him; he never wants George to take off the goddamn thing. Dream scrapes his short fingernails against the nape of Geroge’s neck, basking in the way George shivers with it.

They break apart again, both a bit out of breath from how they’ve been kissing, deep and dirtier by the second. 

Across from him, George scoots closer. He slots one knee between the both of Dream’s, tugging gently at the collar of his shirt to get Dream to lean down into a kiss again. On instinct Dream’s hands fly to George’s waist, tugging him forward the rest of the way until they’re touching, flush in more than one place. 

George is fucking beautiful, and Dream wants to devour him. He slides his hand all the way up George’s hoodie to find him bare skinned underneath, rucking the fabric up around his elbow as his fingertips map out the expanse of George’s skin. His hand is big enough to settle around a great portion of George’s ribs, and Dream’s thumb nearly meets the center of George’s frame. Not quite, but almost. 

They don’t pull away from their kiss for any reason other than to breathe, and George’s breath hitches against Dream’s mouth as his hand spans across George’s stomach. He’s got that lean gamer body, the build that makes it clear that he isn’t lying about playing video games for a living and hardly ever leaving his house. What’s more is that Dream can feel the soft downy hair of his stomach turn into something scratchier, and rather than indulge George in what he knows he wants, Dream just keeps touching him.

He’s waited long enough for this, so Dream keeps touching him.

His hand slides around again to rest on the small of George’s back, waiting only a few moments before sliding down to palm at George’s ass through his PJ bottoms. George is really blushing now, and Dream shoots him a wolfish grin as he applies a bit of pressure and grips at his asscheek. It makes George twitch, his hips shifting up against Dream’s thigh down where their legs are entangled together. Dream can feel him through his bottoms when he does so, can feel that he’s hard below the fabric.

“Really? Just from a little kissing?” Dream teases him, palming another handful of his ass. As if he isn’t just as down bad at the moment. George shoots him a look, pulling at some hair on the back of Dream’s head and making him gasp. Apparently George felt like playing dirty right now, which Dream could _definitely_ work with.

He considers asking George how he knew how to pull his hair just right, but then his mind flashes back to more of the conversations they’d had and Dream snaps his mouth shut again, face burning. 

“Don’t act like we’re not in the same boat right now,” George huffs beside him, slinging his leg over Dream’s hip. It gives him more leverage to thrust up against Dream’s upper thigh and the seat of his lap, and when George angles himself just right the both of their lengths rub together. Dream helps him grind up against him using his palm, squeezing a bit harder every now and then; hard enough to part George’s cheeks slightly and thumb at the space between them.

It’s all that Dream does for him for now, fully intent on waiting until George is desperate enough to beg before he moves on. George has been rutting against him for some time now, and even _Dream_ is starting to get a bit impatient. Eventually Dream can’t take it anymore, and he grips at George’s hip firmly enough to get him to stop.

George looks like a mess already, even through the scowl that he sends Dream for interrupting him. His breathing is ragged and if Dream looks down, he can see the tented fabric of George’s pajama bottoms beginning to form a wet spot on the tip.

“Is this really how you want to get off?”

“Well, you’re not exactly helping,” George bites back, and Dream knows he’s just being a brat. It’s more effective when they’re face to face, and George swallows a lump in his throat as he watches as Dream’s pupils fill and replace practically his entire iris.

Grabbing George’s leg at the thigh, Dream slowly pushes him off, until their positions are flipped and Dream is hovering over George on the bed. He pushes George’s leg down until it meets the bed, pressing it there. It makes George try to close his legs, but Dream just uses his other hand to press his other thigh down as well, keeping his legs spread open. Above him he can see George’s chest rising and falling, breathing quickened in anticipation. 

When Dream removes his hands, George doesn’t try to move his legs again. Dream smiles up at him from between his thighs, sliding his palms up George’s stomach and bunching the fabric of his hoodie up to expose more skin. 

“Don’t,” Dream speaks up when George moves to pull it off, wanting him to keep it on. It comes out as more of a command, but it’s one George obeys nonetheless. The sight of him in it sparks that possessiveness in him again, now more than ever. He wants George to wear it everywhere, to wear it on stream. 

Everyone would notice, of course. When hundreds of thousands of people are watching you, there are very few things that they miss. They would have to see George’s smile hoodie, and Dream wonders how their audience would react if they saw George with marks all across his neck. They could all speculate, of course, but no one would be able to confirm that it was Dream who left the marks. 

Dream got to have George in a way that no one else could, and that was a thought that was deeply satisfying.

Trailing kisses across George’s stomach, he tugs at the waistband of George’s plaid pajama bottoms, raising his eyebrows as it reveals more and more skin.

“Going commando, seriously? Were you expecting this or something?” Dream teases with a little chuckle, making George’s face go red.

“Excuse me if I never shared whether or not I wear underwear to bed, weirdo,” George replies, though he doesn’t share the smidgen of hope that he did have that inspired this decision in the first place.

Dream starts to place kisses even lower, completely ignoring George’s hard length that pops up in front of him as he pulls George’s PJs down and off his legs. “Well, it’s kinda hot if you _were_ expecting it. For the record.”

“Right,” George chokes out above him as Dream nips little bruises into the inside of one of George’s thighs. “For the record.” 

Dream can tell it’s killing him to not be touched where he wants to be so badly and takes pity on him, ghosting his fingertips along George’s shaft as he works another bruise into one of George’s milky pale thighs.

After another few minutes of that, feather-light touches and bruising nibbles, George finally whimpers down at him. Dream looks up at him, eyes sparkling.

“Dream…”

“Hm? What’s up?” Dream replies casually, breath ghosting warmly over George’s cock as he speaks.

George whimpers again, clearly not wanting to say it. He’s endured at least a solid twenty minutes of Dream’s teasing tonight, and he needs it now. It doesn’t take more than a minute for George to finally cave.

“Please, Dream. We’ve waited long enough, I need it. Need you,” George tells him breathlessly, until Dream finally leans forward and puts his lips on him, smearing precum on them in the process. 

Dream takes him into his mouth inch by inch, eyes fluttering shut as George tangles his hand into his blonde locks. When he hollows his cheeks and sucks for the first time, George whines like he can’t help it. The journey back up is just as excruciatingly good, and Dream takes his time learning the curves and shape of George’s cock with his tongue. 

Tonguing at the head, Dream uses one hand to jerk him off, grinding down into the mattress every time George tugs at his hair. He has to use his other hand to hold down George’s hips, gripping hard enough to bruise every time George bucks up into the wet heat of his mouth.

He didn’t think he’d like it at first, the feeling of George fucking up into his throat, but the first time his grip on George’s hips lets up and ends up gagging him, Dream doesn’t find himself minding so much. He chokes and has to pull himself off of George to cough once or twice, but lowers himself right back down without hesitating.

“S-Sorry, didn’t mean to, ah, ch-” George starts to apologize before realizing Dream hadn’t been complaining at all. In fact, Dream takes the tip back into his mouth and looks up at George expectantly. He bats his lashes at him stupidly, trying his hardest not to smile.

It just makes George groan and throw his head back into the pillows, and it’s obvious that George gets the message once he sets a steady pace, pushing a little deeper down Dream’s throat with every thrust.

George is louder in person, flushed and with a light sheen of sweat that Dream can see covering his abdomen when he opens his eyes. George has his mouth hung open and is moaning, slapping a sleeved hand over his mouth after letting out one that he thought was too loud. He must be close, Dream notes once George starts babbling mindlessly, trying to warn him. Dream only fans his fingers out across George’s hipbone, encouraging him to just keep going. 

It’s not long before Dream feels George’s hips stutter harshly followed by the warm sensation of him finally coming down his throat, and Dream has to remind himself to breathe through his nose while he tries to swallow it all. It’s not a sensation he’s ever enjoyed very much or felt in a long time, but with George he doesn’t mind one bit. He’d do anything for George, and doing something as simple for him as swallowing all his cum makes him feel good.

They both lie there as George comes down from his high, breathing labored and sweaty hairs sticking to his forehead. He has an arm thrown above his head, and he has his eyes closed.

“You better not be falling asleep on me right now, dickhead,” Dream croaks out, words coming out crackly and hoarse from his used throat. His voice sounds like hell, but it was worth it.

George scratches at Dream’s scalp assuringly, making a noise of confirmation. It’s almost like he’s petting him, but Dream leans into the feeling anyway.

“Get up here,” George requests once he catches his breath, and Dream inches up towards him on the bed, hissing as his hard-on drags against the sheets. George wastes no time slipping his hand into Dream’s sweats, under the Calvin Klein briefs that George definitely would have made fun of him for had he seen them any other time, and around Dream’s aching cock. Dream hisses at the contact, bucking up impatiently into George’s left hand. He hadn’t been touched all night, and he was already so close to the edge.

“You’re even better in person than I’d thought you’d be,” George mumbles, nosing at the slope of Dream’s neck where it meets his jaw. Dream gasps at the contact, his neck being an especially sensitive area for him. George seems to take notice and gently mouths at the skin there with gentle kisses. “Bigger than I’d thought, too. In more ways than one.”

“I didn’t have to second-guess myself when I saw you in the airport, I _knew_ it was you. Knew for sure that I had spotted _my Dream._ You are mine, aren’t you?” George continues on under his breath, sucking a mark just below Dream’s jaw as his hand works up and down the length in his hand.

“Yes,” Dream stutters out, arching into George’s hand. He can’t help the moan that escapes him when George swipes his finger over his tip, thumb digging into his slit as a reward. “All yours.”

George hums, smiling and satisfied with the answer as he admires Dream coming apart for him. Dream forces his eyes open to look at George and feels himself getting hit with another wave of lovestruck incredulity. That’s _George_ gazing at him like that- _the_ George. The George that Dream loves so much it makes him ache all the way down to his bones, shaking the marrow within them.

Dream has to snap his eyes shut again before it all gets too much.

“You gonna come for me, Dream?” George asks softly, lips now pressing kisses along his jaw, slowly making their way to his lips. Dream can only nod and whimper. “Good.”

That’s all it takes for Dream to come, whining at the praise as he spills hot and sticky over George’s fingers. George strokes him through it until Dream paws at him to stop, chest heaving at the overstimulation. 

Thoughtfully, George raises his come-covered hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick up some of the substance. He pulls a face at the taste of it, which Dream chuckles at, and instead decides to wipe the rest of it off on Dream’s shirt.

“Hey! I have to sleep in this, you know,” Dream grumbles in complaint, cringing as he feels it seep down into the fabric and stick to his skin. 

“Then take it off, idiot,” George shoots back, hunkering back down under the covers with a smile, looking quite proud of himself.

If Dream blushes at that, then it’s nobody’s business other than his own. He strips himself of the shirt as suggested, discarding it onto the floor before slipping back underneath the covers himself. George is still smiling at him, and it’s contagious. Dream’s grin makes its way onto his face in no time. 

Wordlessly, they both make their way into each other’s arms. They fit together like they were always meant to, like they were both made for each other. It’s like Dream has a space between his arms molded perfectly and especially for George, and George fills that space like the last piece of a puzzle. 

“Thank you for surprising me,” Dream whispers, like if he talks too loudly the moment will be ripped from him. Idly, he rubs circles into George’s shoulder blade. “You don’t know how much I appreciate it. I mean...this was the _last_ thing I was expecting from you.”

“Well...I’m not sure you get how badly I really did want to see you,” George says with a little giggle, and it reminds Dream of what he had said the last time they talked about a meetup. Dream is pretty sure that he’s repeating him, word for word. What an idiot. 

George closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Dream’s bare chest, running his hand along Dream’s bicep. “Because I love you.”

Dream feels more awake after that. George had said it. It had been almost a year since Dream had heard him say it out loud, and hearing it in person is almost a little too much for Dream’s heart to handle right now. Logically, he’s always known that George loves him. It’s plain to see, and George has always had his own special ways of showing Dream that he loves him. But hearing it said out loud has always been a different ballgame entirely. 

Dream inhales shakily, pulling George in closer to him, arms tightening around him. It’s a snug fit, but Dream wants to make sure George _feels_ how much he loves him. 

“Really?” Dream asks him after a few minutes pass by, hoping maybe he can get George to say it again

Obviously George catches on to his plan, and rolls his eyes with a quiet laugh. “Go to sleep, Dream.”

“Alright, alright. I love you too, George.”

* * *

In the morning, they are rudely awakened by the sound of Dream’s phone blaring from somewhere beneath the covers. Dream must have forgotten it was in his pocket last night, and now he has to go fishing for it under the sheets.

“ _Dreaam,_ make it stop,” George whines, pulling the covers over his face and curling up into an even smaller ball. Dream already has the phone in his hand, squinting at his screen through sleep infested eyes.

_Sapnap wants to FaceTime._

He answers immediately, silencing the rings. He keeps the camera angled so only his eyebrows and above are shown on the screen. Only three people are set to go through the _Do-Not-Disturb_ feature on his phone: his mom, George, and Sapnap.

“Dream? What the hell, dude, I thought we were supposed to start recording, like, _two hours ago._ Where the hell have you been? Bad and I have been trying to hit you up for like a million years!” Sapnap interrogates him, and he’s so close up on Dream’s screen that he’s sure his face must be about a centimeter away from the camera in real life.

_Shit._ He forgot that they were scheduled to film. “Sorry, man, I-I guess I just slept in,” Dream apologizes hoarsely, immediately regretting having answered the call. His voice sounds like hell, and there’s absolutely no way that Sapnap doesn’t hear it too. Beside him, George turns over again.

“Jesus, what happened to you? Sounds like someone tried to straight up murder you. Did you get your shit rocked or something?” Sapnap furrows his eyebrows at him, squinting harder at him through the camera. “Are you in bed with someone right now, dude? You freak!”

“No!” Dream tries to deny, eyes flicking over to the smaller screen that shows the view of himself. Quickly he adjusts his camera to be pointed directly on himself, so Sapnap can’t see any of the room around him.

“Fucking liar, I saw some hair! And it definitely wasn’t yours, unless you dyed your hair pitch black within the last 24 hours.”

“Can you be quiet, please?! Some of us are still sleeping!”

“Bullshit, dude it’s like three pm! Speaking of sleeping, where is George? He’s late as hell too, and he’s not getting off the hook, either,” Sapnap asks, clearly not dropping the topic.

At the sound of his name, George stirs under the covers. “Huh? What is it,” he grumbles crankily.

Dream freezes. Sapnap freezes. They’re both staring at each other through the phone screen, waiting for the other to say something first.

“Sooo… Do I want to know?” Sapnap asks cautiously, like he’s just walked into something he shouldn’t have.

George, who apparently just recognized the sound of Sapnap’s voice, pops his head up from under the sheets. “Oh. Hey, Sapnap,” he greets him nonchalantly, before simply rolling over and putting himself back to bed.

“Uh...surprise?” Dream tries, offering Sapnap something that was supposed to be a smile, but comes off far more awkwardly. He sits up in bed a little, angling the camera farther out so his whole face can fit inside the screen this time. Their secret’s out, apparently, so there’s no reason to try and hide George from view anymore.

“Are you naked?! Oh God, is that why your voice sounds like that?” Sapnap screeches from the other end of the line, voice cracking from how high he pitches his voice. He must have caught sight of one of Dream’s bare shoulders and started assuming. 

“No, dude! What the fuck, I have pants on! See?” Dream argues, tilting the camera down towards his lap. It’s not even worth doing so, because Sapnap isn’t even looking at his phone anymore. He’s completely out of frame, and all Dream can see is his ceiling.

Beside him, George snorts. Dream tries to contain his own laughter, but instantly fails, falling into a fit of wheezy giggles. George can’t help but join in as well, laughs falling from his own lips. On the phone, Sapnap is still recovering from the whole ordeal. 

“Listen, we can,” Dream starts, having to pause to let out another bout of giggles, “we can record tomorrow. Might just be me though, George doesn’t have his setup yet. Apologize to Bad for me.”

“To Bad? I don’t get an apology?”  
  
“No,” Dream laughs.

“Sure, okay. Whatever, just let me know when you’re free to record. Or maybe we can stream,” Sapnap thinks out loud, picking his phone back up so Dream can see him again. “I’m gonna hang up now, don’t have too much fun. And if you do, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

Dream is thrown into another fit of wheezes as Sapnap hangs up on him, and once he catches his breath he rolls back over in bed, fitting himself against George’s body. George is the _perfect_ size for little spooning.

“Well, guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Dream says, tucking an arm around George’s middle.

“It was only a matter of time before Sapnap found out. Not like either of us can keep our big mouths shut,” George hums lightheartedly, scooting back and chasing Dream’s touch.

“Wonder how long it’ll take for everyone else to start catching on,” Dream says, closing his eyes again and simply taking in the sensation of how good it feels to be able to hold George. To get to lie here and feel his warmth, take in the scent of him and feel his skin. To be able to see every inch of him, not blurred or pixelated by a computer screen or phone. In short, George was breathtaking.

“Mm, yeah. We’ll just have to take it one day at a time. We have all the time in the world for just the two of us. We’ll have to take advantage of that before saying anything officially,” George replies, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was still a bit tired from traveling.

“All the time in the world,” Dream repeats, pressing a soft kiss to the top of George’s shoulder. He knows ‘forever’ isn’t the word that George used, but it feels like it. 

A forever with George.

Right now, Dream is thinking he could live with that. Easily. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @ sublingualist


End file.
